


Drinking songs and Romantic trash

by rhealoveless



Series: that one where they go to a women's college [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Don't know what a character is?, Genderfluid Jean Prouvaire, Other, Probably ace, also again this is just fluff, and, aromantic jehan, double double genderfluid, genderfluid courfeyrac, haha nm let's be real all I'll be writing is fluff forever and ever and ever, panromantic courfeyrac, really until finals are over all I'll be writing is fluff, wait oh yeah I'm supposed to actually do real tags here aren't I oops, yayyy for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 08:27:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2725664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhealoveless/pseuds/rhealoveless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jehan gets locked on the roof because he is Romantic trash that is also oblivious to the myriad of warning signs that clearly stated "DO NOT GO ONTO ROOF DOOR LOCKS BEHIND YOU"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drinking songs and Romantic trash

The door was locked.

Jehan stared at it, his hand dropping off. He wondered if maybe he could bore through it with his eyes. He tried it again.

Still locked. He sighed, and fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone--his roommate was probably home still.

His phone wasn't in his pocket. Of course it wasn't. He had taken it out when he came up here because, like the genius he was, he wanted to be able to write distraction free. Well, he got that, anyway.

He walked to the edge, and looked down the five stories to the ground below. Maybe someone would walk by underneath? I mean, it wasn't likely--it was 4am, too late for most of the party goers and still much too early for the crazy people who got up to study or whatever people did that early.

"Well, shit," Jehan muttered. And then, suddenly, a voice cut through the air. The voice was extremely off pitch, very drunk sounding, and singing a crass drinking song Jehan had only heard once in a Shakespeare play. It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

"Hey!" Jehan shouted over the edge. The voice stopped, and a moment later, a person walked into the pool of light under the streetlamp. She looked around, confused.

"Hello?" she called.

"I'm on the roof!" Jehan shouted. "Can you come up here and open the door?"

The person finally looked up and saw Jehan, and saluted before stumbling inside. Jehan went to stand in front of the door, and waited expectantly.

And waited.

And waited.

Now, he didn't have a clear sense of how much time had passed because, again, no distractions, but it was at least ten minutes, Jehan assured himself. Clearly the person was not coming up here, after all.

Jehan went back to the side of the roof, and looked down. What were the chances someone else would come by?

That's when, of course, the door opened and the person stumbled through, and before Jehan could do much more than turn around and say, "No, wait--" the door fell shut behind the other person.

"Hi," she said, and grinned widely at him.

Jehan stared mournfully at the door before turning to the person and saying, "Now we're both locked out here."

The person glanced behind herself and tried the door. "So we are," she said, and laughed cheerfully. "Well, that sucks. I'm Courfeyrac."

"Courfeyrac, I hate to break this to you, but you are among the stupidest people I have ever met," Jehan said, and sat down on the cement roof. He wondered if he would be able to sleep on it.

"Yup," Courfeyrac answered cheerfully. "What's your name? And why were you out here, anyway?"

"I'm Jehan. I was trying to avoid people, and that turned out really well."

Courfeyrac grinned, her eyes crinkling at the edges. "You got yourself locked on the roof."

"I mean, you're drunk enough that you did, too."

"What?" Courfeyrac asked.

"You're locked on the roof," Jehan repeated.

"No, no, I meant the drunk part. I'm not drunk."

Jehan skeptically raised an eyebrow.

Courfeyrac contorted her face into some vaguely similar shape, if you were half blind and standing a good ten yards away.

"You were singing a drinking song."

"Yeah," Courfeyrac answered. "Want me to teach you it?"

"No, thanks," Jehan answered, and let his face fall into his arms. "I want to go to my room and go to bed."

"Well, I could call a friend."

Jehan raised his head slowly. "You have a phone."

"I do," Courfeyrac answered. "What, you don't?"

"What? No, I do, just not with me."

"Here, give me your number and I'll call my friend," Courfeyrac said, and tossed her phone to Jehan. Jehan almost dropped it, and was close enough to the edge it could have very well fallen.

"That's blackmail."

"Yup."

Jehan laughed, and typed his number into Courfeyrac's phone, before tossing it back. Courfeyrac didn't even come close to catch it, despite it being (Jehan though rather indignantly) a very good throw. It skittered across the roof and hit the door, and she picked it up after it came to a stop.

"Hi," she said into the phone. "Yes, I know it's 4am. Could you possibly come up to the roof and open the door? My friend here managed to get herself locked out."

Jehan bit his lip and looked away. He supposed he shouldn't really complain; he did go to a women's college, after all, and he even was normally a woman. He hadn't really even tried to pass as male, since it had only come on late that afternoon.

"Thank you; you're the best. Yeah. Love you, man." Courfeyrac hung up, and smiled. "R's on their way."

"Thanks," Jehan said, and managed to put a smile back on his face.

Courfeyrac frowned, then suddenly widened her eyes dramatically. "Oh my god I'm so sorry you're not a girl, are you."

Jehan shrank back some, and wondered if maybe he would be able to flatten himself into the pavement.

"No, I saw you at the queer meeting thingie at the beginning of the year. Shit, I should've remembered, I'm so sorry; you would think I'd be better about it but apparently I'm not what pronounsdoyouuse?" Courfeyrac asked, his sentence running together into a nearly unintelligible smear at the end.

"She's fine," Jehan said into his lap.

"If you say so, man," Courfeyrac answered. "I mean, I'm genderqueer so I make people change CONSTANTLY it's not going to be worse than that."

Jehan looked up. "You're genderqueer?"

"Yup. Genderqueer and hella gay."

"Me too," Jehan answered, and his smile reappeared. "Though no the gay part. I'm aro ace."

"Hell yeah, I hit the jackpot coming up here and getting locked on the roof," Courfeyrac answered, and held out a hand to help Jehan up. 

Jehan took the hand, with a short laugh, and pulled himself up. The door to the roof opened, then, revealing a stocky black person whose eyes were half closed in exhaustion.

"You suck, Courfeyrac," the person mumbled, and let go of the door, turning around and leaving. Courfeyrac lunged forward to grab the door, pulling Jehan, whose hand she still held, behind her. Courfeyrac also managed to almost fall down the stairs, but Jehan pulled her back in time.

And if they didn't let go of each other's hands until Jehan went into his room, well, nobody was awake to see.


End file.
